


A Scandalous Agreement

by historiareiss



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 16:24:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13391676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiareiss/pseuds/historiareiss
Summary: Irene Adler, the Woman, was the most evident and alarming example of Sherlock's perfect mind failing at being perfect.She was a glitch in his system with the sole purpose of reminding him that even the aseptic and spotless Sherlock Holmes was, in the end, human.The notion flustered him to no end, all the more so in the present situation.A very peculiar and uncomfortable situation to be in, to be sure, but one he had agreed to nonetheless.





	A Scandalous Agreement

Why he had agreed to such thing, remained an unanswered question even to himself.  
Sherlock's logical and pristine life would sometimes be soiled by dark stains, holes in his reasoning, foul marks on the immaculate canvas of his intellectual integrity that he could not wash away, no matter how frustrated and ashamed they made him. There were questions that he simply couldn't answer, cases bound to remain unsolved, both in his brilliant career as a detective and in life.  
And Irene Adler, the Woman, was the most evident and alarming example of Sherlock's perfect mind failing at being perfect. She was a glitch in his system with the sole purpose of reminding him that even the aseptic and spotless Sherlock Holmes was, in the end, _human_.

  
The notion flustered him to no end, all the more so in the present situation. A very peculiar and uncomfortable situation to be in, to be sure, but one he had agreed to nonetheless.

  
She had him strapped down into a chair, blindfolded and helpless, but still fully clothed.  
The Woman was taking her time, as he was under the unbearable impression that he had been sitting there for hours, in endless and feverish anticipation. He could feel his upper limbs starting to ache under the grip of the binders on his wrists and yet, that wasn't the worst of it.

  
The sharper, worse ache radiated from his groin alongside a heat that took hold of his entire body, making him wish he was naked instead. He always felt naked in her presence, anyway. His very clothes, tight and elegant in their peculiar British style, were far from being a foolproof shelter against the Woman and her inquisitive, icy eyes.  
"Very well, Mr. Holmes," the purr of her deep voice only a few inches from his face made him stir in his seat, alert and aroused as he was. "I see that you are growing... _impatient_."  
Sherlock could not see her due to his enforced blindness, but something in the way she said _impatient_ told him that her grey eyes must have been pinned on the bulge between his legs, where his erection pleaded to be released from the painful restraint of clothing.

  
He had no clever answer to that, no witty reply to give her, so he merely let out a flustered groan despite himself.  
"Shall we start?" the invitation came as faint as a whisper, as seductive as the Woman herself could be.  
"I-" She did not let him finish. His breath was cut short by the unexpected pressure of her heel on his aching manhood, the contact intimate and daring even through the layer of his pants.  
In that state of mad arousal, he realized despite himself that she was wearing no shoes. He would have risen in protest if not for the fact that he could no longer articulate a full thought.  
"It was not a request, Mr. Holmes." The words spilled from her mouth with the same poise that never left her, as if the devious act she was involved in didn't faze her at all.

  
Then, without so much as another word, she started stroking his erection with her toe, gently at first, and then more vigorously the more he stiffened under her expert touch.  
Irene cracked a grin of utter delight for him, one he sadly couldn't witness, given the blindfold shutting his eyes to the Woman's doings.

The most brilliant detective in the world biting his bottom lip in distress at her teasing truly was a sight worth seeing.

  
_But he still wouldn't beg_ , she observed inwardly, with only a pinch of pique.  
The brief, unsatisfying contact between them ceased too then. Sherlock felt like he could lose his mind anytime now, his allegedly non-existent heart hammering loudly in the anticipation of what she might do next. His proverbially unfailing deductive skills were of little use with her, after all. Not that he could summon any skill at all in the present situation, anyway.  
The pleading groan left his thin lips only once she finally came to straddle his waist, her clothed center brushing against him, arousing him to the point of madness.

He felt her intoxicating lips trailing on his cheekbone, jaw, neck, where occasionally the kisses would become as violent and vicious as bites. His hips flinched and lifted to meet hers when her lithe fingers sank in his black curls, pulling his head back, baring his neck to her carnivorous lips, to vulnerability.  
Sherlock Holmes had come to seek out vulnerability willingly, and in the most peculiar of ways. A life of building impregnable walls around himself, only to discover that he could find the greatest of pleasures only in the risks of exposure. Not for the first time in his life, he found himself musing that he ought to hate Irene Adler as much as he ought to thank her.  
His sharp intelligence couldn't make a sense of it, but for once, his body seemed to know things that his mind hadn't processed yet, as it responded promptly to the Woman's every move with the deftness of a chess player.

  
"Irene." he grunted helplessly after struggling for several moments, giving up the blind search of her and letting his hips fall back to the chair.  
She must have noticed that he had called her by her first name for the first time since they met, for she let out a small laugh that reached his ears as she kissed his throat, once, twice, before pulling away completely, leaving him in utter dissatisfaction again.

  
"Shall we be informal, Mr. Holmes _?_ "

  
Sherlock was on the verge of telling her to quit the act and release him from that sweet torture, but then he remembered that the Woman never truly asked for anything. She took what and whom she wanted when ever she wanted, and all her requests weren't properly requests, but rather just another means of enticement. So he hushed, half fearing a repercussion, half craving it.  
The man felt her shift so her hands rested on his thighs now. Her weight shifted closer to him, too, pushing his thighs to open wider. Adler's lips just barely grazed his pants as she gave the tip of the tent a light kiss. His confined cock was weeping for her touch, and fortunately for him, that seemed to be the end of the teasing. _For now_.

  
With firm, swift moves, she roughly pulled down his pants, and just as roughly took hold of him, stroking and pressing voracious kisses from tip to base. Sherlock's head fell back as he let out a sigh.  
Her mouth was nothing short of paradise. He had never wanted anything half as much as to thrust up into her tempting mouth and taking the edge off his sexual frustration like that.  
But he wouldn't let himself voice all this. He could barely admit it to himself, let alone to the Woman herself.  
With trembling thighs, he could feel his end nearing. He felt every inch like an embarrassed and helpless child who couldn't even manage himself, but as his climax was building up, the sense of pride he still stubbornly held on to was pushed further and further back in his mind.

  
He tried to fight the urge to come for only a fleeting moment of vanity, tried to shift his focus elsewhere, all in vain.  
Every attempt to draw it out failed miserably as his mind seemed to race faster and faster towards the feeling of her choking around him, and that feeling, alongside the vision of her swallowing everything he gave her, dispelled any intention of fighting it. Clenching his fists, he embraced the imminent release and began thrusting up to meet her glorious mouth.  
"Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath in a fit of passion. He was so close, truly so close, it would take him so little at this point. Just a little more. A flick of her tongue, a hard suck and-  
She pulled back again, releasing his cock from her lips with an audible _pop_! The noise sent a shiver down his spine.

His entire body was trembling in feverish eagerness, engulfed in the electricity that the denial of release had caused.  
His hips thrust wildly up into the empty air, the strain of coming down almost painful. And just as suddenly as she had stopped, the blindfold was pulled roughly away from his eyes.  
Blinking several times, he squinted as he tried to adjust to the dim light and let his vision clear.

His clueless, watery eyes settled on Her, the woman he didn't need to name for she was the only Woman for him, eclipsing all the other members of her sex.  
She was beautiful, to be sure. Her bright prying eyes reminded him that - lest some fool misread the situation - he was the naked one in the room, despite being relatively clothed still.  
And she was powerful still, even as she was kneeling between his legs.  
His own eyes shifted from hers down on her voluptuous body, warped in a near-transparent black silk chemise.  
He could make out the rose color of her puckered nipples through it and the lascivious way she looked up at him made his cock twitch.  
The excruciating way he desired her clashed painfully with the way he was feeling now; deprived, powerless, sorely on edge.  
He was left no choice but to give her what she had been waiting for from the very beginning. He was left no choice but to beg.

  
"Please... I can't bear this anymore, I'm coming undone", his plea came out in a strained, breathless growl that carved a merciless smile on Irene's fair face.  
That's how he knew that she had been wanting to hear those words all along.

  
The Woman looked as if she would consider his request for a second, before dismissing it utterly with an idle chuckle.  
She rested her hand on his thigh and started to caress it lightly. Slowly, too slowly for Sherlock's thin patience, her hand made its way to his groin back and took hold of his erect cock.  
His eyes rolled back as he let out a hiss at the contact, "Oh God," His muscles twitched as she slowly stroked him. Her grip on him was loose as she pumped him slowly, adding a light twisting motion.  
He cried out loudly, his flesh more sensitive than it had ever been and just the barest of touches affecting him deeply. He could feel the pulsing of his cock as each gentle tug reeled him closer and closer to release.  
He could see the peak, it came faster than it had before and more powerful than anything he had ever felt. Then suddenly, with a hard squeeze at his base, it stopped.  
Denied again, Sherlock whined, "Please, I'll do anything," his voice strained and begging as his eyes slightly watered, "Please..."

  
Irene pouted mischievously in response, and without breaking eye contact, she pressed a kiss to his weeping tip and began stroking him again, dropping one hand to fondle his heavy sack.  
His cock started to throb as he slowly teetered, his hips thrusting hard into her hand, knowing that if he were denied once again, he would lose his wits for sure this time. His mouth hung open as he muttered nonsense under his breath. And with just the gentle graze of her thumb across the sensitive head of his cock, the most glorious feeling took over as he erupted violently, spilling his seed across his own abdomen. Slumping back in the chair, he felt every muscle in his body tremble with the power of his climax, and his vision blur.  
He didn't want to move. Not that he could, even if he wanted to. He just sat there, his wrists burning still in the binders's grip, struggling to catch his breath.  
Irene wouldn't let him rest, though. She had just begun to enjoy herself.


End file.
